


Bean Shots

by LxNaomi



Category: Death Note (Anime & Manga)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-09-29
Updated: 2019-09-29
Packaged: 2020-11-01 06:34:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 7,608
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20810666
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LxNaomi/pseuds/LxNaomi
Summary: A collection of One Shots about my OC and L's son, Bennett "Bean" Petrov-Lawliet.  Prerequisite reading = my novel "Bean" :)





	1. Stats

**Full Name:** Bennett Alexei Petrov-Lawliet

**DOB: **September 28, 1998 (Moscow, Russia)

**Mother: **Anya Sashenka Petrova (June 22, 1977)

**Father: **L Lawliet (October 31, 1979)

**Full-Grown Height: **5'10"

**Eyes: **blue

**Hair: **black

**Favorite Colors:** red and blue

**Favorite Foods: **Pop Tarts, strawberry milkshakes, jellybeans, Jell-O, macaroni and cheese, hot chocolate with whipped cream and colorful sprinkles

**Hobbies: **Listening to music, hip hop/footwork/street dancing, making music with his keyboard, laptop, and soundboard, snowboarding, puzzles and model figures, chess, kicking a soccer ball around

**Other:** Autistic, Ace, Genius-level IQ, anxiety-induced tick in left hand


	2. Born

**_September 28, 1998_**  
**_Moscow, Russia_**

It was dark in the small and simple prison cell. Dim light from the hallway streamed in through the window on the locked door, casting a small square on the floor.

In the bunk above, Sasha slept soundly.

But on the bottom bunk, Anya Petrova was wide awake.

She was lying on her side with one arm bent under her head and the other resting on her round, pregnant belly. She laid still and soundless, breathing slowly and steadily, waiting for what she knew was coming again any second now.

She'd been at this for four hours.

And then, there it was.

Anya gripped a handful of her pillow and concentrated on breathing evenly as her abdomen tightened in another contraction. Scrunching her eyes, she turned her face into her pillow and tucked her lips in to keep a moan from escaping them.

Only a few more seconds...

Anya bit her lip and arched her back.

This was a big one, and it lasted nearly a full minute.

And then, almost in an instant, it subsided. Panting quietly, Anya lifted her slender, blue eyes and read the digital clock on the wall.

4:21a.m.

_5 minutes apart._

Groaning softly, she rolled over onto her back and flopped her arms out beside her with her palms facing upward. She closed her eyes and just laid there, taking in these last few moments of peaceful silence.

Above her, Sasha started to snore loudly.

Anya scowled in annoyance and lifted her foot to kick the bunk above her, but her rather rotund figure kept that from being successful. Instead, she lifted an arm and thrust herself up just enough to punch the wooden bunk before falling back into the mattress.

Her cellmate stirred and mumbled in irritable disapproval, "What, Anya?"

"You sound like a lawn mower!" Anya hissed from below.

The two girls, both 21, had become friends over the past eight months. While Sasha was a little more on the rougher and harsher side than Anya, both had come from similar backgrounds and shared much in common.

"Why are you even awake?" Sasha asked groggily.

Anya sighed. "I... I can't sleep," she whispered loudly, hoping that her friend would just shut up so it could be quiet again for just a few more blessed minutes.

But Sasha whispered back, "Is everything okay?"

Rolling her eyes back in exasperation, Anya groaned. "Ughh, Sasha! I'm fi- ahh ah ow!" Another contraction gripped her abdomen, and Anya quickly brought one hand to her lower stomach, scrunching her eyes tightly.

Sasha's upside-down face appeared next to her. "Uh... you don't look fine," she quipped.

Anya tried to wave a hand dismissively, but suddenly, the contraction intensified. She dropped her head back and let out a sharp cry.

Both of Sasha's feet landed on the floor next to the bunk. She knelt down and folded her arms on the mattress.

"Yeahh, you're not fine," she said bluntly.

The contraction eased, and Anya relaxed, breathing heavily. She turned to look at her friend with the long, blonde dreadlocks and grey-blue eyes that sparked like the sky before a storm.

Sasha reached out and flicked away a piece of Anya's bangs that were starting to stick to her dampening forehead.

"Been awhile?" she asked quietly.

Anya nodded, her breathing jagged. "Since around midnight."

"Hm. That sucks."

Anya reached out and backhanded her friend's arm. "Yah, no kidding," she groaned, rubbing her sore belly.

"Everything alright in there?" A female voice came from the other side of the door.

The girls looked at eachother. Sighing, Anya nodded. It would seem that the quiet stillness was officially over.

Sasha turned toward the door. "Anya's in labor," she informed the guard.

And so it began. The lights came on in the room, the prison medics came to transfer Anya to the hospital wing, and through all the noisy chaos, the contractions continued to come relentlessly, gradually becoming stronger and closer together.

Once they reached the delivery room, Anya dressed into a hospital gown. But before climbing up into the bed, she turned to the midwife and asked if she happened to have a camera on her.

"I do, actually," the plump, middle-aged woman in the scrubs and white sneakers said kindly. "Would you like me to take a couple photos when your baby is born?"

"Oh, would you?" Anya requested with feeling. "And actually, could we take one right now?" She looked down at her big, round belly and placed both hands lovingly over the thin, printed fabric draping over it. "I'd like to have kind of a 'before and after,' you know?"

The midwife nodded understandingly as she opened a drawer and took out a little black camera.

"Oh... wait..." Anya turned and placed both hands on the side of the bed and dropped her chin down to her chest. "Ow... owww..." She gritted her teeth and endured the painful contraction until it passed moments later. Standing upright again, she lifted her hands to rub her face.

"We'd better take this picture now," she said with a tired little laugh. "I'm not gonna be able to smile soon."

The midwife agreed. Anya ran her fingers through her short hair, fluffing the two long pieces around her face. Then, she took a deep breath and posed with a big smile and a perky two-thumbs-up.

The camera clicked and the midwife chuckled. "You make it look easy," she teased.

"Ha!" Anya scoffed as she climbed rather cumbersomely into the bed and under the clean, white sheets.

The midwife was looking over her chart now. "So, I see you're having a boy," she observed.

Anya looked down at her belly again. "Mhmm."

"Do you have a name?"

A tightness suddenly formed in Anya's chest.

_A name._

It had been a name that had started all of this. A name that she had been hired to obtain. A name that was still unknown to her.

But there was another name that was more than good enough for her, as it was the one she had come to love; and she'd had it picked out from the very beginning.

"Bennett," she said softly.

And she saw him then, as clearly as though he were standing right beside her. The world-renowned legend known to the rest of the world as L would always be Cayde Bennett to Anya Petrova. The quiet, quirky detective with the wild, black hair and the dark, shadowed eyes. The childishly competitive insomniac with the deep, monotonous voice and the curved, barefooted posture.

Anya knew she would never see him again... that he would never even know they had a son.

"It's a nice name," the midwife commented, and Anya looked up from being lost in her thoughts.

She smiled. "Thank you," she said. "I think so too."

The hours passed slowly for Anya. An IV needle was put in her arm and taped onto the back of her wrist. Wires connected her to monitors that kept track of the consistency and intensity of her contractions and little Bennett's healthy, steady heartbeat.

By mid-afternoon, she was asking for Sasha. She was miserable and desperate for a familiar face. The guard agreed to let them have thirty minutes together, and soon thereafter, Sasha shuffled into the room, her hands cuffed in front of her.

She sat down in a chair next to Anya, who was curled up on her side with one pillow between her legs and another being hugged to her chest.

"How's it going, hun?" Sasha inquired. The handcuffs' metal chain clinked as she folded her arms atop the bed.

Anya smiled as best she could. "A little better now that you're here," she said tiredly.

And then a sudden cry escaped her as she squeezed her eyes shut and clenched her jaw.

Sasha made a face likened to a sympathetic pout and reached out to rub Anya's shoulder as she groaned agonizingly through the painful contraction.

"Poor thing," Sasha mumbled.

Anya's face was buried in the pillow she was hugging and her words were muffled. "Ughh, I can't do this, Sasha," she lamented, her voice shaking.

Sasha just kept rubbing her friend's arm. "Yes you can, you can do this, hun."

"No, I mean..." Anya lifted a tear-streaked face and sniffed as she bushed damp strands of hair out of her cobalt blue eyes. "I mean... I can't be a _mother_." She turned her shoulders so that she was looking upward and, placing one hand over her eyes, she began to cry softly.

Sasha was quiet. Finally, she asked plainly, "Do you want to be?"

Anya looked at her friend. She nodded and swallowed, big tears trailing from her slender, blue eyes. "Well, yes. I mean, I don't want to give him away." She lifted an upturned hand helplessly. "But I just feel like he... he deserves more than I can give him, you know?"

Sasha tipped her head. "You have a lot to give, Anya," she said sincerely. "You're strong and you're brave. And I've already seen the way you talk to him. You just keep taking care of him the way that you have been- one step at a time, one foot in front of the other- and that boy is gonna have everything he needs."

Anya couldn't answer as another contraction overwhelmed her entire being. But she reached out and squeezed her friend's hand, nodding.

She knew Sasha was right. She knew that as soon as she saw him, all would be right in the world. She just had to get through this agonizing process.

The guard ended up letting Sasha stay for over an hour, but eventually, she had to leave. Anya labored on, taking one torturous contraction at a time. She tried standing up for awhile with her forearms on the bed and her chin tucked down to her chest. Then she laid down again, first on her back, then on her side, tossing and turning and adjusting pillows in every way imaginable. Miserably and painfully, she was unable to get even the least bit comfortable and still, Bennett took his time. The hours ticked slowly by.

It was dark outside again by the time the midwife finally announced that it was time. Anya was rolled over onto her back and propped up by pillows. The midwife situated herself on a stool in front of her and then nodded, like a commander giving an order.

Anya nodded back and took two deep breaths. Then, with her knees bent up to her ears, she arched her back and pushed with everything she had.

"Oh, good girl, Anya. That's perfect."

Anya vocalized her effort through gritted teeth.

"Good! Ok you can go ahead and relax for a minute." The midwife smiled at Anya. "It looks like he's got a lot of hair," she commented.

One corner of Anya's mouth lifted in a smile as she panted steadily, waiting for the next contraction.

An hour and a half went by like this, with Anya moaning in wearied agony between pushes that made her yell out in excruciating torment.

Then, at 9:58p.m., Anya gave one final sharp cry as, at long last, her son was delivered. Her whole body was shaking as she fell back exhausted into the pillows, her face and chest damp with sweat. Never in her life had she felt this spent.

But then she heard it. A tiny cry, full of life.

Her eyes fluttered open. He was really here.

Slowly, Anya lifted herself up onto her elbows just as the midwife approached her with a tiny bundle.

"Congratulations," the midwife said, beaming, and she placed the blanketed newborn into his mother's arms.

And suddenly, it was as though the world itself stopped spinning. All at once, the purest, most overwhelming sensation completely engulfed her and coursed through the very essence of her being, and Anya knew she would never be the same.

"Hi, baby," she whispered. She brought one trembling hand up to her mouth and rested her fingers against her lips. "Oh, you look just like him," she said softly.

Bennett's tiny fist rested gently against the rosy pink skin of his swollen little face. He made airy little baby noises as his long fingers opened and then closed again. His eyelids fluttered but remained shut, revealing for only a brief second a bright shade of blue beneath soft, delicate lashes.

Anya reached out her hand and carefully cradled the back of his head with it, brushing her thumb back and forth tenderly over his silky, black hair.

And then without warning, she began to cry. So many emotions flooded over her all at once.

Love like this was nonexistent until this very moment.

She shifted to lay on her side and held her Bennett close to her, resting her forehead against his. Her tired and sore body shook with sobs as tears ran unashamedly in streams down her face.

Life had not been kind to the young street girl from Moscow. Being alone was something she had grown accustomed to. Living on the streets had shaped her into a strong and independent woman, but it had also caused her to live a difficult life weighted with loneliness and mistrust.

But now... now she had him. This tiny little bean of a person. Here at last was someone that was her very own to love.

And to the end of her days, Anya was never alone again.


	3. Missing Pieces (age 3)

The great expanse of sky loomed over the city of Moscow like a heavy woolen blanket. Thunder rolled in the distance, though the clouds held back their torrents for the time-being. The young Russian girl trudged on ahead, only a couple more blocks to go. She hummed a gentle tune despite being exhausted and out of breath, a brown paper bag of groceries in one arm and a tiny bundled toddler in the other. Small as he was, her arms ached, her muscles pleaded for relief, but she moved steadily on ahead...

One foot in front of the other.

The young mother, barely more than a girl, shifted to boost the little boy a little higher on her hip, steadying the bag of groceries in her other arm. "Almost there, baby..." she assured him between strained and tired breaths. "Almost there..." Her words were cut short by a sharp cough, and she slowed only enough to let it pass.

The small boy reached out and put his tiny, albeit very long-fingered hand against her lips. "Okay, mama?" he asked worriedly.

"Yes, baby." She smiled against his palm and made little kisses into his soft skin.

Anya's arm tightened around the bag with a crumpling sound as she passed a gathering crowd around a street musician. Just then, the bottom of the bag ripped open, and the items tumbled onto the sidewalk, despite her frantic attempt to stop the catastrophe. Lifting her face to the sky, she closed her blue eyes and sighed, her now free arm hanging loosely at her side holding the shredded, empty paper bag. She didn't let go of her little boy as she crouched to pick up the simple items- a bag of potatoes, a cardboard carton of milk, a bag of apples, a small frozen chicken... and a box of strawberry Pop Tarts. 

"Pop Tart..." the little boy murmured, pointing a long, little index finger. His small voice sounded awfully concerned. 

"Don't worry, sweet Bean, your Pop Tarts are fine." Leaning in toward him, she planted a kiss on his round little cheek. Then she removed her coat to use as a makeshift satchel and continued down the street toward the rather shabby-looking building with the cracked and decayed exterior. 

At last, she reached the door with the peeling paint and stepped inside the drafty building. A baby crying could be heard from an apartment within, and the floorboards creaked under her steps. She climbed two flights of rickety stairs and headed a short ways down the hall to a door with 3C on it in tarnished brass with rusty screws. Pulling a single key on a ring out from her pocket, she unlocked the door to a very small, very simple apartment with outdated furniture and old appliances.

It was mostly one big room, save for a little bathroom off to the right. A tiny kitchen was in the back right, and a bed on a plain metal frame was in the back left. To the immediate left was a drab couch and a chair with frayed upholstery. But brightening the room almost everywhere were small accents of color. Hanging on the wall above the bed was a construction paper chain. Flowers made from paper and straws peeked out from a cracked mug on the small metal and vinyl kitchen table. There were photographs tacked to the walls, and papers decorated with colorful crayon scribbles were hung prominently all around like fine pieces of artwork.

Anya exhaled in relief as she set Bennett down on the floor. "Oof! You're getting so big." The cheerfulness in her voice masked the ache and the exhaustion for the sake of her son.

She moved to set the makeshift satchel of groceries on the table before turning back to Bean. He was sitting on the floor tugging at his shoelaces. He pulled off one sneaker and then the other, then stood and bent to pick them up and set them neatly by the door.

"Good job putting your things away." Anya smiled at him as she crouched in front of him and unzipped his coat. "You're so grown up."

Bean grinned as he turned so that she could pull his jacket off his arms. Then he ran with little socked feet over to kneel down before a cardboard box against the wall. On the front of it was painted in big, red letters, "Bennett's Toys" along with a big yellow sunshine with a smiley face. There were also colorful drawings and scribblings made in marker all over the box, along with some stickers of stars and animals and flowers.

Anya sighed heavily as she sat down on the couch and dropped her head back against the cushions, closing her eyes. She breathed in deeply a few times and felt the strain of the day on her lungs and muscles. Working at a thrift store may not be the most labor-intensive job, but... she wasn't well. And she'd known that for awhile now.

"Mama?"

"Hm?" Anya opened her eyes and lifted her head to look at the little boy. He was standing in front of her holding a puzzle box. A few of the pieces were missing, so the thrift store wouldn't sell it. They'd allowed Anya to take it, and many of Bean's toys had been acquired in the same manner.

"Will, um..." He held out the box, the pieces clattering softly inside. "Will you do a puzzle with me?"

"Of course." Anya slid off the couch to sit on the floor against it, crossing her legs.

A hoodie string dangled from his mouth as Bean knelt down and emptied the box's contents onto the floor. He'd done this puzzle before, but he didn't mind. He started putting the pieces together, not technically needing Anya's help, but she participated all the same.

Finally, the picture was complete, save for a few holes where the missing pieces would go.

"All done!" Bean triumphantly put his long arms outward.

Anya clapped her hands together a few times. "We did it!"

"E'cept for the holes." Bean's little finger poked at the exposed flooring where one of the puzzle pieces was missing. His other hand held a hoodie string to his teeth.

Anya looked at him. Then she stood up and moved over to his cardboard toybox. She rummaged around before producing a container of Play-Doh. She sat back down on the floor and opened it. Bean's eyes watched her curiously as Anya took out a little ball of the blue putty and smushed it into one of the empty spots. Then she took out another little piece and handed it to Bean, smiling.

Bennett grinned and copied her, pressing the Play-Doh into another space where a puzzle piece was missing. He did this until there were no more holes. It was a bit quirky to look at, and it wasn't what the picture on the box had intended, but it was still beautiful. Missing pieces or not, the picture was complete and more than enough for the little Bean.


	4. Snow and Cocoa (age 15)

The sun rose in a glorious bloom of golden rays over the magnificent Swiss Alps. Shenanigan-laced whispering paired with footsteps out in the hall of the private ski lodge, and the door to Bennett's room creaked open...

A quiet snicker was followed by a noisy _SHHH!!_

Two figures made their way over to the sleeping Bean, the one with the shaggy, red hair reaching out to shake his shirtless shoulder. "Psst! Hey!"

They knew better than to jerk him awake.

"Mmh?" Bean rolled onto his back and reached up to rub his eye.

"Hey!" Matt whisper-yelled. "You awake??"

Bennett scrunched his eyes in a yawn, then his bright blue eyes fluttered open. "Hm? Mm... yeah... I'm awake..." he croaked, sounding confused.

"GOOD." Matt leapt on top of him, Mello grabbing his legs.

"What the-???" Bean was definitely awake now.

Matt hooked his arms under Bean's armpits, and Mel had his ankles. The two big brothers carried him out into the hall, the poor Bean trying in vain to wrestle free.

"What are you DOING??" he asked frantically, his morning voice low and froggy.

The boys carried him swiftly over to the open front door. "HAPPY BIRTHDAY!" they both yelled, and they tossed him harmlessly into a cold and fluffy snowbank.

"HEY!!" Bennett yelled, scrambling to his feet with frozen powder sticking all up in his hair and on his bare back and shoulders.

The Ms were just cutting up laughing and fist bumping, Matt taking pictures with his phone. Matt had on flannel pajama pants and a Kingdom Hearts tshirt, and Mello was wearing grey sweatpants and a ribbed black tank top.

Bennett hurried inside, holding his upper arms with chatteting teeth, his nose and fingers already turning bright red. The melty snow clung to his skin and hair, and he laughed along with M2 as they continued the rowdy horseplay.

Watari smiled fondly, his eyes creasing above the little square spectacles on the end of his nose. His feathers were completely unruffled by the hooliganism as he continued mixing sprinkles into the pancake batter. He wore a black suit, as usual, with a blue and white apron atop it.

"Bozhe moy, kholodno!" Bennett ducked his head and shook it like a dog, wet droplets flying outward from his crazy hair. His pointed nose was all red, along with his long fingers and prominent shoulder blades.

L came down the stairs then, and the tomfoolery only continued through breakfast. It was Bean's fifteenth birthday, and the weekend trip to a private ski lodge in Switzerland was L's gift to his son.

The boys then hurried to get ready, and before long, Bennett came thumping out of his room in his snowboard boots and snow gear. L had already gone upstairs to the loft, where he had his computers set up to continue his never-ending detective work. Watari was pulling on a warm peacoat.

"They're waiting for you," the old man smiled, pleasant lines appearing around his soft, blue eyes.

Bean grinned. He opened the door and stepped outside into the frosty air.

Mello had his snowboard standing beside him with his arm draped over the top, and Matt held his horizontally behind him.

"Come onnnnn!" Matt whined, jumping up and down like a misbehaving child.

"I'm coming, RELAX..." Bennett snorted.

Matt bent down and formed a snowball, a look of pure mischief on his face. With his tongue tucked into his cheek, he pulled his arm back and then hurled the snowball up to a second story window. It landed against the panes of glass with a THWACK! and a powdery explosion.

L appeared at the window, holding a folder in one hand and a cell phone to his ear in the other.

"IT WAS YOUR KID," Matt accused loudly, pointing.

"Wha-! No it wasn't! Papa, eto byl ne ya, eto byl etot idiot!"

L just rolled his eyes in a sigh and turned away from the window.

Bennett quickly formed his own snowball and sent it flying toward Matt, who managed to dodge it, laughing like a gleeful child.

Bean ducked down and ran with full force toward Matt, then leapt like a flying squirrel with his arms out in front of him. He tackled his redheaded big brother, the both of them landing with a POOF into a snowbank.

"HEY!" Matt tried to wrestle free, but Bennett had him in an actual martial arts hold.

Bean snickered mischievously as Matt sputtered and jerked beneath him.

Just then, a powdery grenade detonated right against the side of Bean's head, knocking him off Matt, who scrambled to his feet.

"MELLO, my man!" Matt pointed at him, his nose bright red and his bangs wet and slushy. "I knew you had my back!"

The shenanigans continued until a whirring sound was heard, and the ski lift started up.

"Yeahh-eehh, Watari!" Matt thrust a thumbs up toward the little building housing the ski lift controls.

They rode up together, taking in the magnificent view as the sun's golden rays gleamed down on the sparkling powder and the evergreen boughs.

The ski lift reached the top, and the boys dismounted. They took the main slope and started down it, each of them gliding along the fresh powder with speed and ease. A ramp appeared up ahead after a few minutes.

"This one's you, Bean!" Mello called out as they approached the jump, and Bennett gave him a thumbs-up, his grin concealed by dark red fleece.

Lifting his toes and then his heels, he carved toward the ramp, picking up speed on his approach. Then, with a soft scraping sound, his board glided swiftly and smoothy up the incline and sent him airborn. Turning 180 degrees immediately on takeoff, he then reached back and bent his knees to grab the edge of his snowboard, his other arm held out to the side. Suspended in air for only a fleeting few seconds, he returned to earth with another 180 degree rotation, his board smacking the mountainside in continuous descent.

"WHOO, yeah!" Matt cheered, then he bent his knees and jumped up to ride a rail backwards. He jumped again at the end, landing amid a poof of fluffy snow as he lifted his heels to make a turn.

The boys rode the slopes all day long, taking a short break for lunch only to head right back out again. By the time the sun was beginning to disappear behind the silhouetted peaks amid a fiery orange sky, the three were exhausted, and yet happy, thumping inside with slushy, wet hair and sniffly, red noses.

"Hot cocoa," Watari said calmly, turning from the counter to place three mugs on the kitchen table. "Whipped cream for everyone... sprinkles for Bennett, chocolate syrup for Mello, and..."

"...Lucky Charm marshmallows!!" Matt enthusiastically finished the old man's sentence.

"Precisely," Watari chuckled.

After the snow gear had been removed and hung up to dry, the boys sat down to their hot cocoa. L joined them then, taking his familiar sitting position on the wooden bench built into the wall under the window beside Bean. The other two sat in the straight-backed chairs across from them.

"Did you have a good birthday?" L asked, looking at his son as Watari placed a fourth mug of hot chocolate along with a sugar bowl in front of the quirky detective.

Bennett wrapped a long arm around L's shoulders and tightened his grip. "I did," he said contentedly. "And the best part was sharing it with my favorite people." He grinned at his two big brothers.

Mello smiled at him, the ever-present spark in his narrow, teal eyes.

Matt slid his mug toward himself, then held it up. "Happy Birthday, kiddo." He winked with a toothy grin.

Bean returned the big smile as he clinked mugs with Matt.

"Yeah, Happy Birthday." Mello then did the same.

Bean couldn't help but grin as he took a sip of the richly sweet hot beverage. He set the mug down, and his tongue swiped back and forth over the whipped cream mustache on his upper lip. His slender, blue eyes beneath damp, black bangs took in the cozy scene around him.

Matt was cutting up and making some ridiculous joke, the back of his hand smacking against Mello's arm.

Mello was sitting with his arms crossed, shaking his head and pretending not to be as entertained by Matt's antics as he actually was.

L was stirring sugar into his hot chocolate, not quite understanding what was so darn funny, but seeming quite content all the same.

And Watari was icing a birthday cake, his white mustache twitching amusedly.

Bennett smiled. They were a motley crew, to be certain...

But they were a family.


	5. First Session (age 16)

_It was Matt who first suggested to L that Bennett have a therapist to talk to. He explained to L that Bennett is very different from him and that he feels things more, his emotions are just much more keen. Matt understands that's not something L can relate to, but he expressed that Bennett could really benefit from having a professional just to talk to and work through some things with because Bean does get nightmares about being alone and about losing his father the same way he lost his mother, or even about losing his mom all over again...this can then lead to nightmare-induced panic attacks, and it can get rough sometimes._

_Bennett has agoraphobia. He needs to be closed in. The hoodies help that. He always sleeps with his back against a wall, curved into a corner preferably, and hugging a pillow. Or, he will sleep on the couch oftentimes when they are in hotel suites because he prefers to stay in the room with L. When he does get panic attacks, the best thing is a corner... on the floor against the wall or on a couch. He'll sit with his knees up and his ankles crossed, and he'll shove his fingers up into his hair and pull on it... if Matt's there, he makes sure he's not pulling too hard. Bennett also has a bad tick in his left hand that can get really painful when he has anxiety attacks. It's like pins and needles shooting up from his fingertips to his elbow. He's VERY sensitive to touch during and just after a panic attack. He usually goes nonverbal afterwards... not in an emo way, but more in an exhausted sense. He usually is pretty nonverbal after therapy too... but contemplative as well._

_He was a nervous wreck his first session... but looking back, it has proven to be a very good thing for him._

\----------------------------------------------------

  
Bennett sat with on foot on the ground and the heel of the other on the edge of the upholstered chair. He was slouched down with his headset on and a drawstring hanging from his teeth, and he was visibly nervous. L sat beside him, mildly intrigued by some article in a magazine.

The door opened then, and a pleasant-looking, middle-aged African British woman with lots of long, thin braids stood in the doorway with her hands clasped before her. She smiled warmly. 

"Hello! Come on in." She gestured with her hand. "Why don't you both come in to get acquainted, and then we'll go from there?"

Bennett visibly relaxed that he didn't have to go in by himself right away. He stood up, shoving both hands into his hoodie pockets after turning off the music and moving the headset to around his neck. The hoodie string moved a little as he chewed a few more times on the end of it. Then he let it fall to hang again as he and L followed the doctor into the room.

The woman appeared more motherly than doctorly... her office was painted a light shade of pretty green, and she had colorful knick-knacks here and there. She shut the door after all three had entered, and then turned to outstretch her hand toward Bean.

"Bennett, I'm Dr. Christine Montgomery, but I'll just go ahead and tell you that everyone calls me Dr. Chris. Pleasure to meet you."

A polite little half smile lifted Bennett's mouth as he took the handshake. "You too. Um... thanks..." he said hesitantly.

"Oh, not at all, not at all... and who do you have with you today?" She looked over to L, her dark eyes smiling even more than her mouth.

"This is my dad."

"Ryuzaki." L shook the doctor's hand.

The kind doctor smiled warmly with the handshake, then clasped her hands casually before her. "Well!" she exhaled pleasantly. "I am SO blessed to see that Bennett has such support. A good support team is going to be so so crucial for Bennett... and your job as every bit as important as mine... well, MORE, really." She gestured outward with a calm smile on her face, her casual eye contact moving smoothly between the two. "So Bennett..." She looked directly at him then. "You are NOT alone. We are here... we are ALL here... for YOU. Okay?" The laugh lines around her eyes creased with her encouraging nod.

Bean glanced first to L and then to the doctor. He took a deep breath and nodded, swallowing the tightness in his throat. 

Dr. Chris looked at him kindly. "Are you ready?"

"Yeah." He spoke the word in an exhale and with a nod.

"I'll be right outside," L told him, putting a hand to his son's back.

Bean looked at his papa and nodded. 

Then L exited the room, shutting the door behind him.

"Please," Dr. Chris gestured toward one of the two couches that together formed an L shape. "Have a seat, get comfortable."

Bean sat down at the end of one couch, the doctor taking a seat in the middle of the other. She crossed her leg over her knee, settling into the soft cushions. She had a folder on her lap.

Bennett sat guyishly with his long legs apart, his elbows on his knees with his hands clasped together fidgeting a bit. His eyes couldn't help but travel over the colorful room.

Dr. Chris just watched him for a moment, letting him take in his surroundings. She was in no hurry.

Bennett looked at her after a moment and then looked down at his hands. "...sorry..." he muttered.

"Oh, don't be." She lifted a hand carelessly, then let it fall down to her lap again. "It's a nice space, isn't it? I like color as you can see."

"Me too." Bennett nodded with something likened to a smile.

"Why don't you tell me some other things you like?"

"Oh um..." Bean's hands wrung together. "I like music. A lot." He smiled nervously, gesturing loosely toward the headset around his neck. "And um... I like kicking a football around, snowboarding... gaming." He shrugged.

"So mostly activities you can do on your own would you say?"

"Yeah. I think so. But... I like having the option of doing them with my friends."

"Mhm. You have some good friends?"

"Yeah." Bennett nodded. At this, he did smile a little.

"Do you want to tell me about them?"

"Okay, um... well there's Matt... I've known him since I was 4. He's 8... no, 9? Well 8 and a half years older than me. Um..." Bean's bent index finger briefly scratched the side of his face. "He's like... the fun side of me. Like... I think I learned a lot about... socializing and... and stuff... from him. And um..." He swallowed before continuing. "And then there's Mello. He's the same age as Matt, and I met him same time. He's... strong. Not... not like physically strong... I- I mean, he IS, but that's not what I meant. Um..." Bennett took a deep breath and swallowed again as his voice caught.

"Would you like some water?"

"Oh. Uh... y-yeah, actually. Please."

Dr. Chris reached over to an end table to pick up an unopened water bottle and handed it to Bennett. He thanked her and took a quick drink before setting it down on the floor at his feet. 

"You were telling me about Mello," the doctor said gently.

"Yeah. Um, like I said, he is a really strong person. Kinda serious and intimidating if you don't really know him, but I look up to him a lot. Him and Matt are best friends... more like brothers, and I'm like the little brother." Bean smiled fondly. "And then there's Near. He's... quiet. Like me, but... more. Way more. He's, uh... he's autistic too, and really, really smart. I like talking to him, and I like spending time with him because he gets that sometimes I just need quiet. We play chess and do puzzles and other stuff like that." He stopped talking and looked down at his hands again. His heart was pounding, and he could feel the muscle spasms in his left hand like sharp electric sparks. His face winced unwillingly.

"Bennett."

"Yeah?" He didn't look up. His right thumb was rubbing little circles on the back of his left hand.

"If there's something that will help you relax, you certainly needn't feel that you need to hold to any etiquette standards on my account." She gave him a kind smile, the lines around her eyes creasing.

He looked at her a bit painfully, and then looked away. He took ahold of a drawstring with his fingertips and clamped his back teeth down on the plastic aiglet.

She gave him a moment, then observed calmly, "You seem close to your father."

"Yeah." He didn't look over. His head was turned away, in fact, and he continued to hold the hoodie string to his mouth. His left hand had retreated into the space between his ribcage and right arm.

"Can you tell me about him?"

There was a long pause. Bean's feet rocked back and forth on the floor. He really, really wanted to curl up in a corner and shut his eyes tightly. He had that anxious, fluttery feeling that heightened his senses and put his every nerve on edge.

But Dr. Chris waited patiently.

"Um... my dad is a... h-he has a job I can't talk about."

"I understand. I've signed papers regarding this. There's no reason we need to discuss your father's work. Just tell me about him as a person."

"Okay... Well I... I look up to him more than anyone. We're really close. I... I can easily say he's my best friend."

"What do you like to do together?"

"Um, well... I help him with his work. I like that. We like to take walks... we play tennis and chess. And we talk a lot. I tell him pretty much everything."

"Mhm..." She nodded, her facial expression kind and even comforting. "So... you must have a lot of good memories with your father, then."

"I call him Papa."

"Oh, alright."

"I'm Russian." He made a little gesture toward his mouth with an impish look that said 'in case you couldn't tell from the accent.' The aiglet was still being rolled around in his back molars.

"Ah." Her smile and nod indicated that she had that figured.

"But yeah, I do. I have a lot of good memories."

"Would you like to tell me about one?"

Bennett looked down at his shoes, stimming on the aiglet as he thought. A wall clock ticked softly, and his mind found a grounding in its rhythm. He could count the ticks like counting time in music. He did that quietly for what seemed like awhile, but the doctor waited, giving him space.

"We were in Paris," Bennett finally said softly. "I was ten, and... he took me to the top of the Eiffel Tower. I know that sounds cliche, but... it was right at sunset. I... really like sunsets. And um... it was summer, so... it was really warm." Bennett's eyes closed, like was recalling the memory vividly. "And there were people around, tourists and everything, but it... it was like it was just us. We just stood there for the longest time looking out over the city and watching the sunset..." He was quiet again, holding the drawstring to his teeth with his head down, his black bangs falling over his closed eyes.

After the clock ticked softly many times, Dr. Chris asked gently, "Why did you choose that memory?"

Bennett reached up and fluffed his hair with his long fingers. He sat up a bit and opened his eyes. "I dunno..." he answered, staring thoughtfully at nothing in particular. "It just kinda came to me."

"What does that memory make you feel?"

"Safe," he answered right away. "Content..."

"Would you say your papa makes you feel this way?"

"Yeah."

"Bennett, what makes you feel unsafe?"

To this, he was quiet. He thought about the question, and his face twitched uncomfortably. Slowly, after awhile, he opened his mouth to speak. "I don't like being alone. Like... I like quiet, and I like having time to myself sometimes but... I have to know where he is."

"Your papa?"

Bean nodded, glancing at her briefly. His thumb was moving in little circles on the back of his left hand again. He swallowed. "I... don't like open spaces. Or too much going on around me. I like being... closed in." He gestured inward with his hands.

"And yet..." Dr. Chris' soothing voice pointed out. "The memory you chose and described as safe has you at the top of the Eiffel Tower... surrounded by a wide open space and a crowd of noisy people." Her head tipped to the side a little.

Bean's face suggested he hadn't thought of that. She let him have a minute to think about it. The wall clock ticked steadily on.

Bennett winced again as a sharp pain tightened the muscles in his left hand and shot up his forearm like a jagged line of electricity. His fingers jolted twice in succession, and he pulled his hand inward toward his chest.

"You want to tell me about that?" the doctor asked softly after a moment.

Bennett's eyebrows came together slightly. "I've always had it," he said quickly.

Dr. Chris said nothing. She only nodded understandingly.

Bean sighed. "It... it happens when I'm nervous or... upset. Anytime my anxiety goes up, it happens. It's like... all my stress concentrates on the nerves in my left hand."

"Take a minute," she encouraged him.

He nodded and sighed in a deep breath, closing his eyes. Gradually, the sharp pain subsided, and he slowly brought his hands down to his lap again.

"What would help you right now, Bennett?"

He didn't answer. He glanced toward the clock and then the door.

"He's right outside that door."

Bennett swallowed and nodded, looking down at his hands.

It was quiet again for a moment.

"Do you want to ask me a question?" Dr. Chris offered.

Bean looked at her. His eyes traveled to the folder on her lap. He gestured toward it. "What's that?"

"Your records," she responded. "Would you like to see?"

"...okay."

She leaned forward and handed him the folder.

Curiously, he looked through the papers. Most were rather dull... immunization records, reports from childhood doctor's appointments and check-ups, statistical medical charts... he came across a scan of his birth certificate, and his eyes widened. He'd never seen it before. Watari had the original document, he knew.

He read it over carefully, it being in Russian of course.

_________________________________

NAME:   
First: Bennett   
Middle: Alexei   
Last: Petrov

Male  
2920 grams  
53 centimeters

BORN  
September 28, 1998  
21:58  
to   
Father: unknown   
Mother: Anya Sashenka Petrova

Moscow Women's Correctional Facility  
City of Moscow  
Federation of Russia  
_________________________________

Included with the scan of the document was a copy of his tiny newborn feet prints. His pediatric records were all there... and his early psychiatric evauations documenting both his diagnosis of autism and his genius-level IQ. His foster care records were all there... his adoption papers were there...

It was like holding his story in his own two hands.

Quietly, Bennett closed the folder and handed it back to Dr. Chris.

"Thanks," he said quietly. "I guess... you already know a lot about me."

"What's on these papers isn't who you are, Bennett. I don't know the real you. But I'd like to... if you'll let me."

Something about that sentence relaxed Bean. He looked at her with his beautiful blue eyes, and his face softened. He took a deep breath, and he nodded.

"...okay."


End file.
